


double-blind trials

by Huffleton_Puffleton



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Infinity War never happened, Reader-Insert, but reader is more like an oc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-06 23:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14658333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huffleton_Puffleton/pseuds/Huffleton_Puffleton
Summary: A collection of moments that lead up to a soft science nerd having to choose between a hard science nerd and a literal superhero. Or something like that.Work-in-progress, so idk





	1. Firsts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exumbrainsolem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exumbrainsolem/gifts).



You don’t even remember the first time you met. He was just one of those friends of friends, though you weren’t apathetic enough not to notice he was one of the cute ones. You didn’t really mind having to pair up with him on this history paper, except that for some reason, he was always too busy to meet up for it. You’d suggested working on separate parts and then collating it later, or even a Google doc would’ve worked fine. Instead, he’s somehow in your dining room at 9pm on a weeknight.

“So…”, he glances quickly at you after a long silence, filled with just the sound of tapping keys. “Where are your parents?” He seems physically unable to stop himself from filling any gaps in the conversation.

You shrug without looking up from your laptop. “I don’t know. The hospital?”

“What?” his head jerks back to you.

“Oh,” you grin sheepishly, “They’re doctors, so like, we never know when they’re coming home.”

“Oh,” the sweet boy smiles in obvious relief. You stretch and then fold onto the dining table, groaning tiredly into your arms.

“Um, we can finish this tomorrow, I guess? If you wanna go to bed?”

“Nah, I still have to study after this, anyway. No point,” you grumble. “Also, how are you out so late, anyway?”

“I guess my aunt’s pretty used to it,” it’s his turn to shrug. “You’re still studying after this?”

“Yeah, science is _not exactly_ my strong suit,” you grimace.

“But you go to a science high school…,” he prompts.

“My family’s really big on science…and like, being on the honor roll and eventually becoming a doctor too,” you try to play it off as a joke, but you’re not sure if it worked.

Your phone suddenly buzzes frantically on the table. Your best friend’s name flashes on the screen and with it, a pretty embarrassing photo. It’s blurry, like it’s been zoomed into and cropped from an already low-quality photo, but it’s unmistakable.

“Is that-?” you cut him off.

“My friend. She’s an ass,” you rush an explanation before quickly picking up the call. “Hello?”

“Did you do the English homework?!” your best friend yells on the other end.

“Yup. Did you forget?”, there’s a quick beat before your friend confesses.

“Yeah…I had club, though! Anyway, can you help me tomorrow? Please please please?”

“Umm, after you changed your contact photo on my phone?” you chuckle as she groans. You meet Peter’s eyes, and he smiles back.

“I forgot about that…” she sighs, “But you know I wouldn’t call if I wasn’t so desperate. Please. I will help you with math homework.”

“You don’t have to,” you finally give in. “I’ll help you out first thing tomorrow.”

“Thank you! You’re a life saver!”

“Yeah yeah, what are friends for.” You say your goodbye’s and drop the call.

“So…” Peter looks almost sorry to bring it up again. “Was that…?”

“Spider-Man’s butt. Yeah.” You roll your eyes. “I told her I liked Spider-Man, and she thought it would be funny. We’re dumb like that,” you regretted saying it as soon as it left your mouth.

“What?” he chuckled, clearly embarrassed for you. _He_ was blushing, for crying out loud.

“You know what? I think we’re done here!” you hit save on the history paper you’re working on. “I can just polish this up and submit it in class tomorrow?” Now you were blushing.

“Hold on. Sorry, I’m not-!“

“Okay, well, see you!” you stand up way too quickly.

“Wait, wait, I didn’t mean to-“, you groan. He was too nice to just let it go.

“No need to apologize. I am embarrassed for myself too,” you sigh.

“No, I’m sorry. I just didn’t realize…” he shrugged. “Ha, I mean, why? Wha-” he’s about to start babbling like he usually does, so you cut him off again.

“Whatever. It’s just, like, a celebrity crush, y’know? Like, I saw him rescue a dog, and I don’t know. I like dogs, and he just seems like a nice dude,” you shrug and realize you’re babbling too.

He’s looking at you oddly and a soft pause hangs between the two of you for a second. It doesn’t seem like he’s about to start teasing, and you feel the tension leave you without even noticing you were tensed up in the first place.

“I just really like dogs,” you laugh genuinely. He smiles genuinely too, but your attention snaps back to the paper. “But I wasn’t lying when I said I think we’re done with this,” you gesture to your laptop.

“Wow, really?”

“You don’t think so?” you ask.

“No, I mean, I’m honestly kind of lost with the finer parts of it. I know I’m a shitty partner,” he smiles apologetically. “I know I haven’t really had time…”

“No problem. I get it,” you start to pack up, since you planned on working the rest of the night in the room you share with your sister.

“Thanks. I guess I did get pretty lucky I got the history buff for my partner.”

“Sadly, I am a soft sciences kinda gal. Bordering on humanities almost,” you strike a mock tragic pose.

“Hey, I owe you one, so if you ever need help with the hard sciences…” he offers absently, but you know you can’t afford to pass up a study session with one of the smartest kids in school.

“Well, I’m gonna take you up on that, so you better be serious."

* * *

You’ll never forget the first time you met. He was on patrol, as usual, and you just happened to be on your building’s rooftop when he stopped for a breather. You gave an embarrassing squeak of surprise when he materialized from, seemingly, nowhere. He landed silently on the edge of the rooftop.

“Oh! Sorry about that,” he holds both hands up.

“Um…,” you’re taking a while to process what’s happening and you’ve dropped your phone. He steps down to pick it up.

“This yours?”

“Um, yes,” you manage to mumble. “What…?” you frown at a bleeding tear on his upper arm.

“Oh, crap,” he says, though he does nothing about it.

“Wait here!” you spring back to life. “Um, please? Don’t go. I have something…for that,” you gesture at the wound.

When you come back with the first aid kit, he’s sitting on the low wall at the edge of the roof, swinging his legs nonchalantly. You can’t believe he actually stayed and waited. You feel yourself flush.

“Hey!” he gives a friendly wave and turns back to you. You hold up the first aid kit. “It’s really nothing.”

You smile disbelievingly. “You of all people should know how filthy this city is. You gotta dress that properly or something.”

To your surprise, he actually lets you. You start to clean the wound before wrapping it up. “It’d be better if I could keep the bandages under the suit, but I guess…,” you smile up at him briefly. Of course, you can’t actually tell, but it feels like he’s staring intently at you through the mask.

“You know, I heal pretty quickly,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t really keep the bacteria out, does it?” you can’t believe you’re really chastising _the_ Spider-Man right now.

He chuckles. “Fair enough.”

“Huh. Is that where your web comes from?” you glance at the device on his wrist as you pack up the first aid kit.

“Oh, yeah. I made it myself,” his chest puffs up with pride.

“Oh,” you smile shyly. “I always thought it kinda…came from you? Like…with spiders?” your face heats up and not for the first time, you wish you’d just shut up.

“Oh! Wow. No.” he laughs, and it sounds almost familiar.

A couple of nights later you find a fresh roll of bandages on your windowsill. It’s a little creepy, considering your window was shut, except there’s a thank you note with a drawing of a spider. The note was typed up and printed out, of course, and the drawing is more of a scribble.


	2. Hero Complex

You don’t remember when you started sharing a lunch table with Peter, because it feels like it’s been this way forever. For a genius, he makes some pretty clueless remarks that get everyone laughing good-naturedly. You roll your eyes, but you’re laughing too. He just has that effect on people.

One Saturday, you and your sister spot a stray cat outside. You call your local shelter and sit with the cat. Eventually, you and your sister insist on accompanying the cat wherever they take her. At the vet’s, you snap a pic of her and send it to Peter, captioned: “I like cats too”.

Your phone lights up and his response is a GIF of a cat catching a spider. You smirk and respond with another GIF.

“Who’s that?” your sister asks.

“My friend,” you say.

* * *

It’s late at night and you’re on the rooftop again. You brought your planner and some study materials, but deep down, you know what you’re really hoping for.

“Uh, hey!” you hear a voice behind you and your heart leaps out of your chest. “Sorry! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think-,” you struggle to respond when you turn around in your seat (a small folding chair). “There’s no entrance you could’ve made that wouldn’t’ve surprised me.” You smile, but it’s more of an awkward grimace.

“I just…I wanted to thank you, in person, for the first aid, but you weren’t up here,” he moves as if to scratch the back of his head, then stops when he realizes the mask is in the way. “Sorry, if it was weird? In my defense, the window wasn’t locked.”

“It _was_ weird,” you notice how his shoulders fall, because (you admit to yourself) you’re acutely aware of his every move. “But, I’ll forgive it. There’s nothing normal about the situation after all,” you’re rewarded by mutual palpable relief.

“So, what do you do up here, anyway? Draw the sky line? Write poetry?” is he…teasing you? You feel your face heat up, but he doesn’t sound mean.

“Nothing romantic,” you admit, “I’m just organizing my schedule, making to-do lists. That kinda stuff.”

He contemplates your response, and then shakes his head. “Okay, well, um…don’t get mad, but-“

“I seem like I might just jump off at any moment?” you finish for him. You try to smile like it’s a joke, and it mostly is, but…

“You wouldn’t…right?” he seems genuinely concerned, and your heart breaks a little.

“No, I wouldn’t. People have enough to worry about. I don’t wanna traumatize my friends and family!” you joke. “Let alone the person who finds my body!”

“What’s wrong? Is it school? Friends? Family?”

“Oh man, you’re really living up to that ‘friendly, neighborhood’ thing,” you smile, but you feel yourself choking up. He is the _last_ person you want to talk to about this. You don’t even know who he is.

“I try,” you can hear the smile in his voice; see it in the slightest change in posture. He’s trying to pick up the mood from where it crashed on the ground.

“It’s just school,” you admit. “College applications, the usual schoolwork besides, plus extracurricular stuff-“, you check yourself and look sharply at him. “Don’t you have a city to save, some heroics to do?”

“I’m taking five,” he shrugs, moving to sit cross-legged beside your chair. You look down at his (seemingly) waiting face and plop resignedly on your seat. “So, what about school makes you wanna jump of a building?”

“That is the stupidest question ever,” you laugh at him. “Have you ever even talked to other students? School is…it’s tough! Petty high school drama is nothing compared to weekly pop quizzes on things like calculus and physics. My parents are big shots in the medical field, and they couldn’t tell you anything about derivatives, and at my school, that’s the basic stuff!”

When you finish your rant, you look down and see him staring into space. You don’t know if it’s okay, but you slowly reach down as if to shake him awake. He turns to your hand and you freeze, but he gently curls the tips of his fingers around yours and looks up at you. For a solid few seconds, your heart is hammering in your ears, then he slowly lets go.

“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got friends,” he says matter-of-factly.

“What?” you mumble.

“It’s a good thing you have friends. If they’re good friends, then they’d have your back.”

You pull your knees up and wrap your arms around your legs. “Yeah, but I’m sure they’re having a hard time too. Even the smartest kids at school probably have other things to worry about, right? I can’t be adding to that.”

“I thought the hero complex was my thing?” he jokes, and again he sounds familiar.

“Speaking of, you should go.” You sigh, “Someone could be in danger or something.”

“Right”, he gets up and dusts himself off. “And you should go to bed, young lady,” he mock chastises, wagging a finger at you.

“See ya around, Spidey.”


	3. Crush

It’s 8pm on a Friday night and the weirdest thing ever is that you’re in Peter’s room with Ned, but Peter’s nowhere to be found. It seemed absolutely normal to May and Ned for you guys to just waltz into Peter’s bedroom without him, but you were definitely uncomfortable. You were on the floor while Ned helped you out with computer science, but you couldn’t concentrate at all. You couldn’t lean back against the bed like Ned was. You didn’t know where to put your things, and you tried to take up as little space as possible. Worst of all, you deeply, desperately needed to pee.

You glanced at Ned from the corner of your eye, but he was tapping furiously on his phone. You tried to focus on his notes, but all you could think about were ways to ask where the bathroom was. You noticed you were clicking your pen too fast.

“Where’sthebathroom?” you asked. Ned jumped at the sudden sound.

“What?” he gaped.

“Where’s the bathroom?” you tried again.

“Oh! Yeah, it’s down the hall. Has a sign on it,” Ned practically leapt to open the door for you and point to the door with the tell-tale sign.

“Thanks!” you were already halfway to the bathroom and didn’t bother looking back.

The first thing you notice is how it smells so much like Peter, which surprises you. How did you know that? It was probably his shampoo. The next thing you notice is that you’re even more uncomfortable than when you were sitting in his bedroom. Next time, you think, you’ll ask if you can study at your place.

You go back down the hall and knock at Peter’s bedroom door. “Just a second!” you hear his voice from inside. When did he get here? Did you take that long on the toilet?

“Hey,” he opens the door looking somehow rumpled, as usual, but his wide smile is infectious.

“Hi,” he’s so close and he’s looking right into your eyes, and for some reason, a ripple of pleasure goes through you. He breaks eye contact first.

“Um, so, come in!” he gestures to where you were sitting before.

“Thanks,” you plop back down, a little more comfortable now, and you notice Ned isn’t glued to his phone anymore. “So, where were you, so late at night?” you were just asking for the sake of conversation, but Ned tenses up.

“Just had some stuff to do for the Stark internship,” Peter responds coolly.

“Oh, right. So, are you gonna start working for Stark Industries straight away, or…?”

“I don’t know yet,” he sighs.

“Well, it’s a solid option, anyway,” you shrug, getting back to studying.

“What about you? Pre-med?” Ned asks.

“I don’t know yet,” you shoot him a grin.

Peter abandons his chair to sit beside you on the floor. He starts looking through your notes, and asking you questions, but you find yourself barely able to focus. His legs are splayed out, parallel to yours, almost touching. You pull your legs up and wrap your arms around them.

“You cold?” his voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Without waiting for a response, he reaches over and behind you to his bed. You flush at his proximity. The last thing you need right now is a blanket, but you let him drop his over you.

“Thanks,” you try your very best to sustain eye contact, but you turn away too fast. You wrap it around yourself and think how you could fall asleep then and there.

* * *

 

You’re back in the safety of your bedroom. The lights are out. Your sister has long been fast asleep, but you’re wide awake. You’re also very very upset with yourself. You cannot afford to have a crush on a friend, right now. Especially, not a friend who’s helping you with school work. You _want_ to be his friend, but your instincts tell you to run as fast as you can in the opposite direction. Having crushes stresses you out so much. The butterflies, the uncertain feelings, the trying to read his mind, the way his mere proximity makes you go haywire like a magnet to a compass. Besides, you don’t have the time or energy to waste on getting over a rejection. So, you have a crush, but if you ignore it, maybe it’ll go away.


	4. Shoulders

_Don’t be a hero._ This is running through your head while you’re crouched at the end of the candy aisle. It’s very compelling advise, at this point. It’s 9PM and you were out on a convenience store snack run when two masked men come in and demand the cashier hand over the money. You know why they picked this place. It’s an independently owned store, not part of a chain. It’s small, but close enough to a bunch of apartment buildings to keep afloat. They usually have two employees at a time, but just one for the night shift. You’re here every Friday night. You and the cashier know each other by face.

Some facts:

  1. You don’t know if this place has a silent alarm, and if it’s been triggered.
  2. You don’t know if the police are on their way.
  3. You have some faith that Spider-Man will find his way here eventually…
  4. …but you don’t know when, and you don’t know what could happen by then.
  5. You have pepper spray, but at least one of them has a gun.



You decide to stay put. Maybe they’ll leave peacefully once they get what they want.

Your heart is beating so fast and so loud it feels like you can’t hear anything else. The bigger guy with the gun is busy watching the cashier, making sure he gets all the cash in the bag and doesn’t do anything suspicious. The smaller one is finished smashing the one security camera. He’s in the staff room wrecking the computer.

“Hey, there’s someone else here!” he calls to his friend.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t in the staff room anymore. In fact, he’s right behind you. A sob escapes your throat. “Get up. Hands up and don’t try anything.”

“Keep an eye on ‘em,” says the bigger guy up front.

You get up shakily. Once you’re standing, an arm snakes around you, pressing a small blade against your neck. You don’t dare move, but the man nudges you forward. You walk slowly, every shallow breath bringing the blade a hair deeper in your skin. You reach the counter and lock eyes with the cashier, his frantic, sorry look mirroring your own.

“Gimme that,” without looking away from the cashier, the bigger thief grabs the pepper spray out of your clammy hands.

“Fuck!”, the man holding you yells in your ear, tightening his hold. You don’t hear the tinkle of the chimes at the store entrance. You don’t see the red blur, but you see his webbing materialize on the bigger man’s gun. The main mugger grabs the small bag of cash and makes for the exit, but he’s sent flying into the nearby aisle where you’d just hidden. He’s webbed into place on the floor.

“Stop!”, the smaller guy, the one with a knife to your neck, yells again. “Stop, or I’ll-!” Suddenly, Spider-Man is in front of you. He’s uncharacteristically silent, but of course, you don’t notice. He’s gripping the hand with the knife and easily pulling it away from you. You sob in relief when the pressure leaves you, but the mugger seems frozen in shock. He’s using all his strength, but he can’t even keep his arm in place, like some twisted arm wrestling contest. He ends up right next to his partner.

Spider-Man moves closer and touches your neck where the knife was. His gloved hand comes away a bit bloody. “Do you have a first aid kit?” he asks the cashier who was on the phone with the cops. The shaken man still manages to grab a box from under the counter. Spider-Man retrieves a band aid from inside and places it gently over the cut in your neck. You’re still sniffling, with tears dripping off your chin. You’re frozen.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I can’t take you home yet. You need to give the police your statement. Can you do that?” You nod, and finally able to move, you wipe the tears from your face.

“Thank you,” you manage to say.

* * *

 

The next day, you’re curled up in bed ignoring your phone. It hadn’t stopped buzzing since news spread about the convenience store robbery. You don’t know how they found out you were involved, but you couldn’t stomach the slightest reminder of what just happened. You tried to reply to your friends’ concerned calls and texts, but you quickly grew tired and frustrated. Eventually, your phone ran out of battery.

The first thing you did after giving your police statement was taking a hot shower. You needed the weight of that man off of you. You replaced the bandage on your neck for one that seemed less noticeable. The next thing was facing your parents. You made sure to keep your hair over your shoulders, covering your cut. They’d rushed home sobbing and angry that you were out so late. They kept asking if you were okay, but all you wanted was to immediately move on from it. Eventually, they let you go to bed, though it was a while before you settled into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

That Sunday night, you were alone in your bedroom with your back against the window when you heard three successive taps. You jumped and spun around, wielding your math textbook like a club. When you saw who it was, you dropped the book and opened the window immediately.

Your voices crashed together. “What are you doing?” you asked. “You okay?” he says at the same time. You both pause.

“You wanna come in?”

“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” he says as he steps inside.

“Oh, well…I am,” you shrug.

“Have you talked to anyone about it?”

“It’s all anyone wants to talk about,” you say with a smirk.

“They’re just worried.”

“I know,” you sigh, “but I just wanna forget about it. I’m okay. They…they didn’t get away with it. You saved us. It’s…all good.”

“It’s…it’s okay, if you’re still scared,” he offers as he stands awkwardly in the middle of the room. You don’t respond, so he tries again. “I was scared too.” You look up at him sharply.

“You’ve been through worse,” you joke.

“Well, it’s been a while since I had to see someone I care about get hurt,” he says it so casually, that you want to dismiss it as a throwaway statement. But then, he catches himself. “I mean, who’s gonna patch me up so my cuts don’t get infected and stuff?” He laughs nervously. Did superheroes not have a lot of friends?

“Thanks,” you almost laugh. “This conversation is so weird that what happened two nights ago seems almost normal.”

“You’re welcome?”

There’s a short pause before you say: “How do you do it? How do you put yourself in danger every day? I couldn’t even…I did _nothing_.”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” incredibly, you have rendered _the_ Spider-Man incredulous.

“I was scared…more scared than I’ve ever been in my entire life…but I wasn’t the one with a gun pointed at me. I could’ve called the police. I could’ve pepper sprayed him to hell.” You can’t look at him.

“No one got hurt,” he places both his hands on your shoulders. “You did what you had to do to, and everything ended up okay. You’re okay. Leonard’s okay. No one got hurt.” He wraps you in a hug, which automatically reduces you to a sobbing mess. You bury yourself in his chest. In between hiccups, you ask: “Who’s Leonard?” He laughs and you feel it rumble through his chest.

“Leonard’s the cashier,” he says, giving you a final squeeze before letting you go. He peers into your face to check if you’re okay.

“I know I keep saying it, but thanks,” you wipe your face, feeling much better. “You really are our friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“I hope so,” he admits.

“I’m…feeling better now. I think you should go make sure crime isn’t happening somewhere. As much as I love having you around…” you smile up at him, hoping he understands that you’re not kicking him out. He has more lives to save, after all.

“I’ll be around,” he says before climbing out the window and swinging away.


	5. Small Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything stays  
> Right where you left it  
> Everything stays  
> But it still changes  
> Ever so slightly  
> Daily and nightly  
> In little ways  
> When everything stays  
> -Everything Stays (Rebecca Sugar)

Things aren’t normal for a very long time. Your normally taciturn sister doesn’t resist your hugs. Your parents demand the two of you check in often. You best friend greets you at school with a bear hug, though she’s respected your decision not to talk about it.

“Over here!”, she raises a hand to get Peter and Ned’s attention at lunch. They make a beeline for your table.

“Hey-!”, Ned interrupts himself and gestures to his neck where your cut would be. “What’s that…?”

The cut is scabbing over, but still noticeable. Your hand jerks up as if to hide it, but it’s too late, of course. Your best friend chokes on her soda indignantly.

“Oh, it’s just a scratch,” you shake your head. Thankfully, Ned brushes it off. Unfortunately, Peter doesn’t. You meet his eyes and suddenly you’re flustered.

 _You okay?_ , he mouths while everyone’s attention is elsewhere. He must’ve heard. You nod and he gives you a soft encouraging smile. You have to tear your eyes away from his.

* * *

 

You’re back on the rooftop after promising your sister you weren’t leaving the building so late at night. This time, you’re prepared. You have a first aid kit, two bottles of water, and some snacks. If you were honest, the snacks were mostly for you. You’d usually spend an hour or two on the roof even before Spider-Man, but ever since that first encounter, you’ve been staying out longer and more often. Some nights he never showed up, but lately his visits had been growing more frequent.

“Hey,” Spider-Man drops in, finally. Peter feels his stomach flip flop from inside his suit when he sees you with the biggest smile he’s ever seen on your face. He thinks it’s like looking into the sun.

“What took you so long?” you say as you close your book and walk over with a bottle of water. “Had to pose for some tourists?” Spider-Man mostly tells you about the oddly mundane stuff he does when he’s on duty. Spotting Spider-Man in action has kind of become a tourist attraction.

“You know me: always happy to help,” he shrugs, and you can tell he’s smiling cheekily. That is, until he sees you handing him the bottle. “Um…”

“Oh,” you realize he’d have to remove at least a part of his mask to drink the water. “If you don’t want to, it’s-“

“No! No. I mean, thanks,” he takes the bottle from you and slowly tugs the bottom half of his mask upwards. You try not to stare, or make a big deal of it, but there’s really nowhere else to look. The part of his face you can see is flushed, and his lips are pressed in a nervous line.

“So…” you try to dispel the awkwardness. “More “man” than spider, huh? Good to know.” He snorts in amusement and you inwardly sigh in relief. He finally takes a swig of water.

“This is actually nice,” he says. “It gets a bit stuffy in the mask, I guess.”

“Okay, that’s good. Glad I could help…somehow?,” you fidget nervously.

“So, how’ve you been?”

“All good. I just sent in my college applications, so that’s something.”

“Hey, good for you!” he grins. “So, you’re not taking any pre-med classes for sure?”

“Oh God, I haven’t told my parents yet,” you squish your face in frustration.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stress you out,” he pulls your hands from your face and lets them drop to your sides.

“Yeah, I know they love and they’ll be happy as long as I’m happy, and all that. It just feels like crap to disappoint them.”

“You’re not going to disappoint them. You’d probably have a _really_ tough time trynna disappoint them,” he smiles encouragingly.

Something occurs to you then and you peer up at him suddenly. “Why me?”

“What?”

“Why do you come up here? Why do you hang out with me?”, his mouth is back in that nervous line.

“I don’t know,” he admits. You feel your heart sink. “At first, I was just checking in, but I like talking to you.” This makes you smile genuinely.

“Thanks,” you say quietly.

“You’re…really nice,” he continues. Somehow, you feel a little greedy; a little selfish. You don’t want to be just nice. Yeah, Spider-Man is standing beside you, telling you about his day, but “nice” is a throwaway word. Being “nice” won’t give you the courage to admit you don’t want a future in medicine. Being “nice” won’t even give you the simple courage to ask out the boy you like. Being “nice” clearly didn’t even mean helping Leonard that night at the convenience store.

Peter senses your disappointment. “I mean, you’re smart, and kind, and sometimes funny! I mean-” he blurts out, and he takes your sudden flush as further proof he’s said the wrong thing. “You could’ve told everyone you were meeting me up here almost every night. Instead, you’re patching me up and giving me water. You freaked out ‘cos you couldn’t somehow stop an armed robbery with pepper spray?! You’re-.”

He sees the way you’re looking up at him with wide, soft eyes, and he stops himself. He presses his lips to yours, cautiously, and when you reciprocate, he cups your face and brings you closer. He’s so gentle and tender that you melt into him easily. It takes a while for you to realize you’re kissing Spider-Man. In fact, it hasn’t quite sunk in yet when you finally find the will power to push away.

“Sorry, I-“ you begin.

“No! No, I’m sorry. I should’ve-“ he says at the same time. You both pause and take a breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot-“ you try again, but he interrupts.

“No, it’s my-!” he stops when you flash him a stern look. This almost makes him smile.

“That was…really amazing,” you take a breath, he holds his. “I know I’m an idiot for saying this, but…I like someone else. It’s stupid, because you’re this incredible _actual_ superhero, and I’ll probably graduate without ever telling this guy how I feel…but…” your lips tremble as you talk and you have to stop and gather yourself.

“But you really like him,” Peter finishes for you.

“Yeah,” you sigh.

“Then, can you do something for me?” Peter swallows thickly, but you don’t notice. “ _Don’t_ graduate without telling him how you feel.”

“But he’s my friend,” you give a pleading smile. He only grins and pulls his mask back down.

“I gotta go. Sweet dreams,” he shoots a length of web to the next building.

“Stay safe,” you say before he leaps off the roof. You wonder where this leaves you now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who gave kudos and left comments! I needed the encouragement/motivation to work on this :)


	6. How to Make Friends

You’re working on a group project for Lit class in the library. Each group is supposed to be like a mini book club. As a group, you select a book to write about, then each member writes a different analysis from their perspective. Afterwards, the group comes up with a report comparing and even consolidating each perspective.

MJ looks like she’s writing, but every now and then, she peers up at the librarian behind you, which means she’s probably sketching her. Beside you, Peter’s brow is furrowed and he’s tapping his pencil incessantly. It would’ve been annoying if you didn’t like his face so much. You’re technically working on an outline of your essay, but you’re also preoccupied with Peter’s closeness. You think you’re about to get a cramp on your entire right side from trying to move as little as possible. It feels like if you so much as brush against him, it’ll telepathically send your feelings to him, which is somehow more terrifying than writing a shitty essay.

Peter’s left hand is still on the table beside your right hand. You could adjust your position and you’d nudge his hand with yours. You think you must be so transparent. He can probably see right through you. Maybe that’s why you haven’t seen him around as much, or you could just be paranoid.

You clear your throat, and Peter startles a little. “I think I’m gonna…finish up at home.” MJ shrugs, and Peter nods vaguely, immediately going back to his notes.

“Hey, here you go,” MJ hands you the scrap paper she was writing on, casual as always.

“Thanks?” you look down, then fold it quickly. Your face is red and when you look at MJ she puts a finger to her lips. So you _were_ obvious. The sketch wasn’t of the librarian. It’s a slightly exaggerated one of you staring dreamily at Peter. “Uh. Bye.” You resist the urge to look back.

* * *

 

Spider-Man doesn’t show up that night, or the next one, or the one after that. _This_. _This_ is why you didn’t want to like someone. You’re spending valuable time on the roof with your thoughts bouncing between Peter and Spider-Man, and every night, you go to sleep with a headache. It makes you think, though. You can’t do anything about Spider-Man, but maybe you _can_ do something about Peter.

“Can you go over this?” your sister asks, turning her laptop around. You start and reflexively lock your phone.

“Hm?” you lean over the kitchen table where both of you have schoolwork and dinner things strewn around.

“This. Can you proofread it?” she slides her computer closer. “You checking for mom and dad?” she looks at your phone. You can’t admit you’re waiting for Peter to text or send a snap or _something_. It’s been strictly schoolwork between you two, and you’re annoyed at yourself for even noticing.

“Sure,” you begin reading your sister’s work, fixing some typos but otherwise changing nothing. Your phone dings. Your attention jumps back to the device before you can help it.

 _Prom? *winky face emoji*_ , you sigh and type back. “ _Did Sarah turn you down?_ ” you wait for your best friend to respond.

“Well?” you sister asks.

“Yup, yeah. S’good.”

“K, thanks,” your sister moves the laptop back to herself.

Ding! _Yes *crying face emoji*_ , you can’t help a preemptive grin as you type. “So, I’m second choice, then?”

Ding! … _okay, yeah, but still_ Ding! _I volunteer to be your second choice!_

“Is that Peter?” your sister asks without looking up.

“What? No,” you snort inelegantly. She gives you a doubting smirk, but otherwise leaves it alone. She suddenly reminded you of MJ.

“Wait, what if we go as, like, a group of friends?” you send this quickly to your best friend. You open another thread: “Your drawing was really good! Do you do a lot of art?” You hold your breath for a beat and hit send.

Ding! _Who is this?_ MJ responds. Ding! _Just kidding._

You draft a response: “K, well-“, you stop and delete the text. You try again: “So, do you draw a lot?”

Ding! _Yes Y E S_ , it’s your best friend. You smile and tell her you’ll get back to her at school the next day.

 _Yeah_ , MJ sends back. You can’t think of anything to say at all. You happen to glance at your sister. If this were her you were talking to, she’d want you to get straight to the point.

“So, I just wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to go to prom with me and a few friends?” you type and send this as fast as you can, before you can hesitate.

You wait.

And wait.

And get ready for bed.

And wait.

Just as you’re about to fall asleep, you get a text. _Prom’s not really my thing._ You frown. You really wanted MJ to come for some reason. If she wasn’t your friend yet, you certainly wanted her to be. She seemed like one of a few people who could tolerate you. You didn’t want to graduate without her knowing you considered her a friend.

“You can wear a tux and protest cissexism, or straight up wear pajamas to signify how pointless the fake glitz of prom is, or how money from the frivolous expenses could’ve gone to charity or whatever.”

Ding! _Wtf_

Ding! _I’ll think about it._

* * *

 

“You invited _Michelle Jones_?” you best friend asks disbelievingly as she slams her locker shut.

“Yeah, is…is that okay?”

“No, yeah! The more the merrier!,” she smiles, “I just can’t believe _you’re_ the one inviting people. Look at you: Miss Congeniality.”

“Shut up! She’s my friend, and I wanna spend prom night with friends!” you say as the two of you walk to your next classes.

“Okay, so, two questions: ‘Does she know you’re friends?’ and ‘Has no one asked you to prom yet?’”

“Well, she doesn’t get mad when I call her ‘MJ’?” you purposely ignore the last question, but of course, true friends would never let you slide like that.

“Fair point.” She concedes, “So… _no_ prom date?”

“None, and not expecting,” you manage to swallow the lump in your throat. This shouldn’t be a surprise, at this point. You spent every second of high school playing catch-up to actual geniuses. You hadn’t made many friends, or gone on many dates.

“Still, _would_ Michelle even go to prom?”

“She said she’d think about it. Besides, she went to other school dances,” you shrug and pause outside your classroom.

“Okay, well, see you at lunch?” she gives you a brief hug and you send her off. You enter your classroom and wave at MJ who waves back in either sarcasm or confusion. Maybe both. In the seat in front of her, Peter lifts a hand to wave, then realizes you’re waving at MJ. He turns away so you can’t see how bright red he is.

"Hey," you great the two in general, sliding into a seat next to Peter.

"How you doing with the essay?," Peter asks.

"Oh, I finished it last night, but now I'm way behind in lab," you smile ruefully. "You guys?"

"Done," MJ says.

"I have an outline?", Peter offers sheepishly.

"I could help you out?," you just really can't help yourself when it comes to this boy.

"We're not supposed to share ideas until  _after_ we finish our own papers," he hesitates, "but, I  _could_ help you with those lab reports?"

"Oh my God, you'd be a life saver," as much as you hate entertaining crushes, you hate tedious paperwork more.

"Tomorrow? After school?"

"Yeah! Okay! Sure!" you cringe at your voice and turn to a rare grinning MJ.

After a beat, MJ chimes in cheekily: "Well, I'm busy tomorrow, so..."


	7. Only Little

It’s incredibly rare for you to come home early, but even rarer still is that Peter’s going with you. He’s usually so busy with the Stark internship. You rarely see him in daylight outside of school. You can’t help but feel a little spark of excitement that he’s going home with you to work on _your_ lab reports. The train ride home is standing-room-only, as usual, and isn’t the most comfortable, but you’re pressed against each other long enough that you can’t complain.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as the train jostles your backpack against his side. You start and realize you’d been daydreaming. You look up at him (“What? No, you’re fine.”) and try your best to look cute and totally not frazzled. Peter tries to keep some distance so you can’t somehow feel how nervous he is.

“This is me,” you say, in case he’s forgotten.

“Right. Hold on,” he jumps to attention, suddenly, and moves to carve a path for you. You follow behind him, giving in to the desire to hold on to his shirt tail.

“You okay?” he asks as you both get off. You nod and turn to walk to your building, hiding your blush and the grin you’re fighting off.

* * *

 

It doesn’t take too long for you to get distracted from your lab reports. You’re next to each other at the dining table, lab things scattered all over, and Peter’s the only reason you have anything done at all.

“I heard you’re going to Empire State?” you ask. These days, every conversation seems to somehow veer towards college plans. You’d heard Peter mention Empire State University before, but he didn’t talk about college plans much.

“Yeah, they have a really good scholarship program, and I get to stay with May, so…”, you nod. You understand the desire to stay in the city for family. You’re constantly worried about your younger sister staying in the apartment alone. Your parents are hardly ever home.

Peter looks up from the report he’s looking over, and notices your change in mood. “Are you planning on sticking around?”

“Do you wanna hear something really dumb?” you smile ruefully. Peter sees something sad in your face. “I only sent in applications for universities in state, mostly ones in the city. I mean, if the big ones like Empire State, NYU, Columbia, blah blah blah don’t accept me? I’m basically screwed. I just wanna, at least, be able to come home for the weekends, or whatever,” you shrug, getting visibly stressed.

“Is it ‘cause of your sister?”

“Well, yeah,” you admit. There’s no other reason. Besides, it’s not like New York is short on prestigious universities. “I don’t even know what _field_ I’m interested in. Maybe something in archeology or history? I like biology, and since Thor showed up, the mythology world has been crazy?” you stop when you notice Peter grinning at you. “What?”

“Nothing!” you don’t realize this, but Peter isn’t aware of the look on his face. “I mean, you keep acting like you don’t have a future, but you don’t?” he bounces in his seat and waves away your confused look. “That came out wrong. What I mean is: you could literally do whatever you wanted. You keep saying you’re barely keeping up at school, and you’re fucked ‘cause you don’t wanna become a doctor, like the rest of your family, but you’re graduating with flying colors anyway? And you do know what you want. You just said it. And you have the grades and the extracurricular accomplishments to get there-“ he waves away your attempt to interrupt him here. “When you leave high school, they’re not gonna know what hit them.”

“Peter,” your soft voice makes him melt. “Thank you,” you’re sobbing and embarrassed about it, but he’s laughing at you anyway, and pulls you into a bear hug. “You jerk! You dork! Look what you did!” you’re laughing through your tears, and he’s hiding his face in your hair so you can’t see him flush.

You pull apart and cough in embarrassment. Peter feigns renewed interest in your lab reports, but he’s still grinning. You both settle in comfortable silence, but there’s something that’s been bothering you for so long.

“So…”, you debate whether now is the right time, but you can’t help it. You’ve been on your phone for a while, and Spider-Man is constantly all over social media. “Do you really know Spider-Man?” Peter starts, and you’re worried it’s because he’s sick of this question.

“Um, yeah, kind of,” he shrugs. “I’ve seen him around, ‘cause of the Stark internship, and stuff.”

“Right…”, you feel bad for asking and decide not to push. Besides, your thoughts begin to wander to Peter’s plans for the internship. You couldn’t even imagine quitting the internship for college, no matter how good the scholarship, but could anyone manage the internship _and_ maintaining a scholarship?

“What’s that?” Peter hasn’t realized you’re no longer thinking of Spider-Man and tries to change the topic. He looks over at your phone.

“Hmm?”, you reflexively pull the phone away.

“Uhh, okay?” he raises an eyebrow and grins.

“It’s nothing!” you try to look innocent, but can’t help laughing.

“Come on,” he whines, “Now I _have_ to see it. I’m a naturally curious person!”

“It’s just-! Ugh!” you give up and cover your face while showing him your phone.

“Buzzfeed…’Which Avenger is Your Soulmate?’…”, he mumbles aloud as he reads. “Oh my God,” he’s holding back his laughter. “Who’d you get?”

“For the record, I haven’t finished answering,” you respond smugly.

“Okay, mine would totally be Iron Man? But, I’m probably biased,” he hands you your phone.

“Why am I not surprised?” you say as you tap your last few answers and hit ‘results’.

“Lemme see,” Peter looks over your shoulder.

“Ooh, nice!” you do a little shoulder shimmy when Thor’s picture comes up.

“I see it,” Peter pretends to consider. He looks at you giddy and grinning. Inexplicably, and because he’s still just a high school senior, despite it all, and because, despite it all, you’re still just a high school senior, the first thing that comes to Peter’s mind is prom.

* * *

 

You begin to worry for your sanity when you find yourself hanging out on the hospital rooftop at night. There’s probably something Freudian about your fixation on heights, but you don’t bother figuring it out. Anyway, you’d just finished dropping off some of your mom’s stuff, which she’d accidentally left behind, and now she didn’t want you going home so late on your own. Apparently, between having you out late at night or falling asleep while trying to stay out of the way at the nurse’s station, she’d have you do the latter.

It’s fate, or luck, but just as you look down at the balcony below, you spot a familiar red and blue figure. He looks like he’s sneaking in with a slumped figure over his shoulder that should’ve been impossible for him to carry so easily. He gingerly rolls the big guy onto something (you can’t see from the roof), and into the hospital.

As soon as Spider-Man looks like he’s about to leave, you make up your mind, and yell: “WHERE have yOU BEEN?!” his masked head jerks up, and you back away as he swings onto the roof.

“What-?”, he’s about to ask what you’re doing on this particular rooftop when you see his right arm is covered with  cuts, as though he’s had to punch through something jagged. Your frustration melts away, but you’re still scowling indignantly when you tell him to wait.

“I’m gonna grab a kit,” you don’t wait for him to respond as you spin around with a huff. As soon as you’re out of his sight, you sprint down the stairs to grab (or steal) some bandages and antiseptic for his injuries. You run back up to the roof, worried he’d leave.

“I-“, you stop in your tracks. He’s gone. You drop the bag you spirited away and cover your face. You can’t seem to stop crying, which makes you feel even worse. Clearly, you’d embarrassed him when you rejected his advances, and now you made things awkward. But, what were you supposed to do? Your thoughts spiraled around, so much that you didn’t notice the sound of web-shooting and padded feet.

“Sorry! Sorry!,” you jump and Spider-Man is greeted with your worst cry face. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I did that. I’m such a jerk. Please, stop crying!,” his hands flutter around you, not knowing what to do. “Here! See? I’m already healing!,” he shows you his injured arm.

“That’s not why I was crying, you dumbass!” you manage to yell between sobs.

“Sorry,” he calms down, glad your crying is dying down to sniffles.

“I missed you,” you confess, voice watery.

“I missed you too,” he wraps you in a tight hug, which is at once nice, and also smeared with blood, sweat, and tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I went on a long trip and lost momentum :) but I'm back now!


	8. Commencement Exercise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> com·mence·ment  
> /kəˈmensmənt/  
> noun  
> 1\. a beginning or start. "at the commencement of training"  
> synonyms: beginning, start, opening, outset, onset, launch, initiation, inception
> 
> 2\. a ceremony in which degrees or diplomas are conferred on graduating students. "a commencement address"  
> synonyms: graduation, convocation

School is so much easier now that you no longer feel so awkward around Peter. Whatever he may or may not feel for you, at least you know it’s mostly positive? Besides, the school year is coming to an end. There are more important things.

“OOOOH MYYY GOOOOD!”, your best friend comes barreling down the hallway at top speed, only to envelope you in the tightest hug. “I am so proud of you! I knew iiiit!” You cast a bewildered smile at MJ trailing behind your best friend.

“Lemme guess: you got innnn…NYU?” she says as she comes to a stop beside your locker.

“Hey! _I_ wanted to tell people!” you protest at your best friend as she lets go. You haven’t been this elated in so long. You forgot it was possible to feel this light and easy.

“Tell people what?” Ned suddenly appears in the hallway, Peter in tow, of course.

“I got into NYU,” you offer shyly. You’re one of the last of your friends to get an acceptance letter. It didn’t help that most of them did early admissions and were going to Empire State.

“Congrats!” Ned shakes you in an enthusiastic side hug. Peter sneaks in an “I told you so” as he pats you on the back.

“You know what, Ned, I wanted to talk to you about, uh, registration stuff, for ESU?” your best friend does a 360 and pulls a confused Ned aside.

“Oh yeah,” MJ says, less convincingly.

“But…you’re going to NYU too, right?” Ned stays confused. He’s right, though. In a surprising turn of events, MJ revealed she would be pursuing a pre-law course in NYU.

“I’m just…curious,” MJ replied, just as Ned seemed to get it.

“Registration?” Peter mumbles, but it’s too late. The other three have turned their backs, keeping a respectable distance from both of you. “Isn’t it kinda early for that?”

You shrug, embarrassed, and open your locker, the door between you and Peter. “I don’t know,” you murmur noncommittally.

“So…,” you can’t see Peter’s face turning red, or frowning in concentration. “Have you asked anyone to prom yet?” He almost whispers this in a rush. “Or, y’know, has someone-“

“Hmm, only MJ,” you shrug, not totally processing what Peter said as you watch your trio of friends from the corner of your eye.

“Oh! Uh, that’s cool,” that was not the reply Peter expected, even though he’d expected the worst. As far as he knew, you liked someone else. “Um-“

“She said ‘yes’, so I’m super relieved,” you can no longer delay facing Peter, no matter how much you rifle through your locker, trying to look busy. You close your locker. “Anyway, did you wanna come?” you look up at him as casual as possible.

“What?” his bemused expression is not what you expected, even though you’d expected the worst.

“Yeah, Wendy got rejected,” you don’t see your best friend (Wendy) flipping you off behind you. “So, I figured ‘Why not go with friends?’, and…” you catch yourself before your forced-casual smile falls into a frown. “Um, unless you’re going with someone else, of course!”

“Wait, hold on,” he’s laughing now. “I mean, I’m not going with…um, no one’s asked and I haven’t, uh, asked anyone,” he winces at the ironic white lie.

“Perfect! So, if you wanna come, that’s gonna be me, Wendy, MJ, Ned, you…aaaand I think we’re the only ones in our friend-group going stag,” you laugh awkwardly.

“Yeah, perfect,” Peter replies with zero sarcasm. He smiles in relief.

* * *

 

When Spider-Man lands on your rooftop that night, you practically launch yourself at him. Of course, he has no problem supporting your weight against him, but his knees buckle at the smile on your face and the ease with which you’d welcomed him. You take his breath away, and he's worried.

“I got in! I got in! I got in!” you squeal deafeningly, not noticing that your feet are inches from the floor. Spider-Man sets you down quickly.

“That’s awesome! Got in where?” Spider-Man mirrors your enthusiasm with some confusion mixed in.

“NYU,” you breathed dreamily. “I can’t believe it,” you look into where his eyes should be and sigh. “I’m gonna be okay,” your voice lifts up at the end in disbelief.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Spider-Man chuckles as you do a careless little happy dance. This is the least guarded he has ever seen you.

“And I get to stay close,” you say it as it occurs to you. Would it matter to _the_ Spider-Man that you stayed nearby? Doubtful? Maybe. Hopefully, not.

Spider-Man tenses up. "Right. You're staying here? Of course you are-."

“What’s wrong?”

“I wanted to do this in person,” he’s almost talking to himself.

“Do what?” you say, indignantly. There's a pause in the air. You get the sense that he has rehearsed this. You're right, of course, Spider-Man has been delaying this, but to him, it's the inevitable.

“If you stay in New York…if we keep meeting like this…” Spider-Man starts pacing. “Ever since I stopped…the Vulture-,” he hesitates, but knows he has to keep going. “I’ve been handling them on my own. He wasn’t working alone, and there are other criminals getting their hands on alien tech. I have to be careful. I’m on their radar-“

“Why now? I’ve never told anyone. I’m not about to tell anyone-!”

“I know! It’s not that! But if someone saw me coming back here, or talking to you-“ Spider-Man drops down to sit on the floor. He runs his gloved hands over his mask.

“So, that’s it? We make up and then you leave again? And I can’t do anything about it, because I don’t know who you are or, really, anything else!” you kneel in front of him. “That’s not fair,” you were so mad. Why did he always make you sad and angry? "You come and go, and I'm just  _waiting_ here, for you, and..."

Spider-Man looks up at you, fingering the edge of his mask with one hand. He cups your cheek with the other, rubbing a stray tear. “I’m sorry,” he almost reads your mind. “And you were so happy today.”

“It’s _not_ fair,” you repeat. Maybe if you keep saying it, he’d stay.

“I know,” he brings both hands to your face and pulls you near to press his still-masked lips to your forehead. “I wish-“, he wished you knew he wasn’t leaving you, not really. In a moment of desperation, you press your hand against his chest, your fingers on the seam where his mask meets the rest of his suit.

“Please?” you hate begging, and you hate how your voice comes out weak. You feel him swallow hard.

“I didn’t wanna just disappear,” he says again. “Besides, you’re right. It’s unfair to you. You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you’re _good_. You’re brave, and selfless, and funny, and clever. You’re the kindest person I know,” you choke on your words. If this was goodbye, he ought to know.

He lifts you gently so you’re straddling his lap. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, so he won’t have to see you cry because of him _again_.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m not that brave. I keep making you sad.” You never realized how young he sounds. You both breathe slowly and shakily against one another.

You’re not dumb. You know he’s right. You know he’s doing this out of concern for you. You still can’t help feeling abandoned. You’d made up, not so long ago. Even when he’d suddenly disappeared for a while, you realize, you never thought he’d actually leave you without saying goodbye.

“I have to go,” he says, and just like that, it’s over. You untangle yourselves and stand up.

“I’ll find you, you know,” you say petulantly. You didn’t make it to senior year without developing an iron will.

“I know,” you can hear the smile in his voice again. “I’ll see you around,” he says as he backs away to the ledge and jumps off the rooftop. You watch him swing away.


	9. The Right Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want you all  
> Say it before you run out of time  
> I want you all  
> Say it before it's too late  
> I want you all  
> Say what I am feeling now  
> I want you all  
> Waiting is insane"  
> \--Thinking ’bout You (Dua Lipa)

It’s prom night, and all you can think about is Spider-Man. Peter Parker is looking dashing in a wonderfully fitting suit (courtesy of his Stark internship), and all you can think about is Spider-Man. You’re tucked next to Peter in the stretch limo you rented with your friends, but all you can think about is Spider-Man. You’re dancing with Peter at prom, and all you can think about is Spider-Man.

Granted, Spider-Man is hard to ignore. He’s constantly on the news, though they can’t seem to decide whether they should praise him, or blame him. But, it’s been weeks since you last spoke to the guy, and you still can’t stop thinking about him.

“Sorry, was I twirling you a little too hard?” Peter jokes as he follows you to the refreshments table.

“No! No,” you pull yourself into the moment. “I was just…thinking about some stuff.”

“About what?” He has to lean closer to be heard and your worries dissipate, only to focus on his proximity to you. You hum absently while trying to come up with a reply.

“A friend.” It’s not exactly a lie, but as far as Peter knows, all your friends came with you to prom.

“Is this ‘cause you’re going to NYU and Wendy’s going to Empire State?”

“Um, yeah,” you shrug, “I know it’s ridiculous, ‘cause we’d still be in the same city, and whatever, but…”

“But it’s a big city, and the schedules will be different, and you won’t even be studying the same things anymore.” You nod emphatically.

“Exactly! One day, our free times will just stop matching up, and then we won’t have any common interests anymore, and next thing you know, we’ve grown apart. I know it happens!”

Peter brings both hands to your shoulders. “I…I honestly don’t know what to say, because I’m worried too.” He’s relieved it makes you smile, at least. His hands fall back to his sides.

“I know, I know. No one can predict the future and whatever.”

“Yeah, I mean, Ned and I are going to the same school and I’m still worried so…” he grimaces jokingly at you.

You gasp. “The _audacity_!”

“It’s true, though. I worry about Ned, but also you…and Wendy, and MJ,” Peter gestures to your friends dancing somewhere at the edge of the crowd. “But I think we’ll be fine.”

Peter smiles and his soft eyes pass quickly over your face, like he’s trying to memorize it, in case he’s wrong; like he misses you already. That one smile, that look, and the semi-darkness give you enough courage when a slow song comes on.

“Do you wanna dance?”

He takes one of your hands before he responds. “Sure,” Peter swallows nervously.

You have to walk a bit, before you’re blending into the semi-anonymity of the crowd, and you’re nervous and shy the whole way. You’re scared your palm might get sweaty, or that Peter realizes he doesn’t wanna slow dance with you after all.

You place both hands awkwardly on his shoulders, and he places both of his on either side of your waist. “Is this okay?” Peter asks. You look up at him for the first time since you asked him to dance.

You jump a bit when you feel a nudge from behind you. “Excuse me,” Wendy trills, as she and MJ suddenly appear, travelling slow-dance-style across the room, for no discernible reason. You’re so surprised that it takes you a moment to realize Peter’s hand on your back has pushed you closer to him, giving room for the other pair.

“It-it’s okay.” You beam at Peter. Wendy and MJ are long gone, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he pulls you closer until you’re pressed against him, and his hold is reassuring and familiar.

“Is this okay?” Peter whispers nervously.

“Mhm,” you mumble contentedly as you lean into him.

* * *

 

Prom was officially over. People started leaving, heading off to someone’s after party. As for your friends, you were mostly watching Ned and MJ argue. Ned wanted to go to the party. MJ did not, but she didn’t wanna go home yet either. Wendy was too sleepy to care, but wouldn’t admit it. Peter, whenever asked, kept saying he was okay with whatever the group decided to do. As for you, your parents were still being overprotective, but they were also speaking at a conference out-of-town.

“We could hang out at my place?” You offered hesitantly. “My parents are out-of-town, so it’s just my sister.”

“Oooh, sleepover?” Wendy immediately perked up.

“What?” Ned waved his arms in exasperation. “We are _not_ missing out on our last high school party for a sleepover.”

“We could grab some food on the way,” MJ suggested, completely ignoring Ned.

“Pete?” You asked.

Peter flushed. “Um, sure. Yeah, sleepover.”

Ned grumbled loudly. “Can we, at least, stop at my house so Peter and I can grab some clothes and stuff?”

“You have stuff at Ned’s house?” MJ asked Peter in genuine surprise.

“Duh. We’re best friends,” Ned rolled his eyes, seeming to accept that he wasn’t going to the after party.

“You can borrow some of my stuff, MJ. Wendy does it all the time,” you shrug.

“So, we should go tell the driver?” Wendy gestured to the parking lot, and just like that, it was decided.

The sleepover consisted mostly of pizza, horror movies, and games that were probably designed to turn friends against each other. Ned fell asleep first, hogging the couch with his head on one end, and his feet in Peter’s lap. Wendy was second, except you hadn’t noticed until you told MJ she could take your bed. Wendy was already in it and snoring lightly. You were about to ask if MJ was okay with a sleeping bag, but she was already half asleep and rolling Wendy aside to make room.

You went back to the living room to collect the trash, but noticed all the cups and bowls were gone. You took care of the garbage and went to the kitchen.

“Hey,” Peter said, without turning from the sink. He was rinsing the dishes. “I thought you went to bed.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You started sorting cups and bowls into the dish washer.

“I couldn’t sleep, anyway,” Peter admitted. “It’s fine.” He smiled as he handed you the final cup.

“Well, thank you, then.” There was an awkward pause.

“I-.“ You both say at the same time.

“Sorry. You first.” You say.

“I…I had a good time tonight, with you.”

“Me too.” You’re both smiling, but the pause makes you feel like it’s your turn to talk. “I’m gonna grab you a sleeping bag.”

“What?” Peter says, surprised. He follows you to your room. It’s dark and Peter can barely make out the sleeping bundle on your bed that is MJ and Wendy.

“My sister took my parents’ room, so I’m taking her bed.” You manage to whisper and babble at the same time. You find the sleeping bag from inside the closet and roll it out between the two beds.

“Thanks.” Peter says, absently, as he crawls into the sleeping bag. You climb into your sister’s bed, but as you roll to your side, you see Peter’s still sitting up. You don't know it, but he's thinking hard about things like actions and consequences and you.

“Pete?” He turns to look at you, and you’re glad for the darkness. Peter is thankful for it too.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers in the dark. You half sit up half lean forward in surprise, and as soon as you say “yes”, as though he’s waited for so long, he kisses you.

And you kiss him back. It’s not awkward or weird at all. In fact, it’s warm and familiar and sweet. In the dark, his hands find their way to you, and you don’t realize you’re tugging him closer by his shirt collar. When you pull apart for air, you’re both surprised to find Peter now kneeling beside the bed. He’s keeping you from tumbling to the floor with an unexpected show of strength.

You peer shyly at Peter and he’s smiling so wide you can’t help but press your forehead to his temple just to be closer to him. “Goodnight.” You whisper.

"Goodnight." Peter whispers back, knowing there's no way he's falling asleep now, and wondering if he did the right thing.


	10. End of Part One

You woke with a shock the morning after the sleepover. Cold dread settled in your stomach once you realized it hadn’t been a dream. Sunlight slipped in-between the curtains, and you see MJ still curled up in your bed, but no Wendy. Hesitantly, you peer over the edge of the bed and see the sleeping bag neatly rolled up and set aside. You listen carefully, but it doesn’t sound like anyone’s near. You dash into the bathroom, brush your teeth, and wash your face.

“Wendy?” You half-whisper as you make your way to the living room.

“Morning!” you jump a little at Peter’s head popping out from the kitchen. “Sorry.”

“Good morning,” you shuffle closer awkwardly, “where’s Wendy?”

“She and Ned left to get breakfast. Sorry, we’re eating all your food.”

“No problem!”

Peter gestures behind him. “I made some toast, and um…”

“Thanks.” You made your way past him into the kitchen, noting the awkwardness between the two of you.

You started taking out plates and utensils, avoiding eye contact with Peter. What if he regrets the kiss? What if it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing? What if you try to bring it up and things will be irrevocably awkward again? Oh God, what if things were already inevitably awkward?

Peter didn’t need spider senses to tell you were anxious. He knew it was about the kiss. What else?

“What are you doing this summer?” Peter blurts it out. You jerk your head in surprise and finally look him in the eye. You can’t help but smile, feeling yourself relax a bit.

“I, um, actually got this internship. I get paid a bit, but the rate isn’t fixed? I’m technically a ‘junior content provider’ or something, so I get paid based on how much content of mine they’ll actually publish. But its flexible, good experience and I’ll meet new people, so…” You catch yourself defending the decision to take the internship. You know you’ll probably get paid less than expected, and you’ll be treated like shit (all points your parents made), but the thought of working in an office and earning your own money is exciting.

“Is this like…Buzzfeed?” Peter asks.

“Kind of? It’s called ‘The Daily Bugle’, and they cover mostly just New York, so they’re not that big. And yes, I know they give journalism a bad name, but come on, a _paid_ internship? For a _high school_ graduate?”

Peter internally balks at the name. Of course he knows the Daily Bugle. It’s one of Spider-Man’s biggest detractors, not that you would’ve considered this. “So…does that mean you’ll be busy?”

“Hm?” You sigh and shrug melodramatically. “Who knows? They haven’t actually told me anything yet, and I’ve met with them three times.”

Peter’s gathering up his courage, though you can’t tell. You’re worried the pause in conversation might turn awkward. “You’re gonna be with Stark Industries, though, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods absently, trying to find the right words, when the doorbell startles both of you.

“It’s them!” You make your way to the door just as MJ peeks sleepily to check on the noise. Behind you, and unnoticed, Peter curses himself out for missing his chance.

* * *

 

Everyone leaves soon after breakfast, but your nerves don’t get a break, because you tell your group chat everything as soon as everyone leaves. Of course, the group chat is just you, Wendy, and MJ, but they’re exactly who you need.

“Oh my God, just ask him out yourself!” Your sister suddenly quips from the other end of the couch. She’s trying to play video games, but every few minutes you get a message, then grunt or sigh hopelessly, and the furiously tap away on your phone. Of course, you told her what happened too, but she had zero advice or opinions to share.

“What if he says no?” You say plaintively. Your sister responds by dramatically groaning in frustration and draping herself despondently over the arm rest.

“Then you graduate and never see him again! Easy!”

“That is _not_ a good alternative.” Your phone buzzes loudly, cutting off what would’ve been another sarcastic remark from your sister.

MJ responds: “He likes you. Ask him out. Jesus Christ.” Wendy immediately gives the response a thumbs up.

“He kissed you!!! He likes you!!!” Wendy insists.

“What if he didn’t like the kiss? What if it was a bad kiss?”

“Do it!” Wendy sends.

“DO IT!” MJ threatens.

“Okay!” You concede. While you type a follow-up Wendy and MJ send a string of “omg’s” and disbelieving exclamations.

“After graduation!” You finish the thought.

“Okay, and in the meantime?” MJ asks. You send a whimsical “I don’t know!” sticker and throw your life into the hands of fate. You groan dramatically and flop over the arm rest.

* * *

Graduation day arrives without incident, because you make sure you’re never alone with Peter for more than a minute. It’s not that hard, since you share a group of friends, and he’s always busy with his internship, even as high school comes to a close. It’s not that easy either, because you never want him to think you’re avoiding him.

“Marquez, Gwendolyn Stacy!” Wendy crosses the stage at the sound of her name and receives her diploma. She also gets a few medals of recognition for her extracurricular activities. Immediately, your phone buzzes frantically. It’s your group chat, the one that includes Ned and Peter.

“Gwendolyn?!” Ned says, followed by a string of shocked GIFs.

“Stacy????” MJ chimes in.

“Ssshhhh, she doesn’t like it!!!” You defend your best friend in the chat, while she hasn’t read it yet.

You manage to graduate with honors. In fact, you barely made it to honorable mention. Meanwhile, Peter gave a very moving valedictory speech that made your heart swell with pride. Even Flash cut him some slack, not once calling him “Penis Parker” that day. The ceremony ends in emotional hugs, and plenty of picture-taking with friends and family. Peter’s Aunt May insists on taking a ton of pictures of your group together. You all spend a solid 10 minutes frozen in place when the other adults take the opportunity to take pictures of the group as well.

“When are you gonna ask him?” Wendy says when you’re both finally somewhat alone.

“Soon!” She raises an eyebrow at you, and you sigh in defeat. “Okay, so after family dinner, we’re all going to Flash’s party, and _then_ I’ll ask him. I promise.”

Wendy squishes your face affectionately. “Good. There’s my brave girl!”

“ _Gwendolyn_!” Ned calls and Wendy spins about indignantly. “More pictures!”

* * *

It’s your first party out of high school, so of course the whole senior class is there, and then some. Flash’s house is packed, which is saying something, because the place is huge. Your friends try to give you and Peter plenty of space together, but the crowd doesn’t care, and all anyone can do is go with the flow of people.

You take the opportunity to hold onto Peter’s arm. When you lean close to yell into his ear over the music, he holds you steady from the small of your back, and leans closer attentively. “I need some air!”

“Outside?” He yells back, gesturing to the doors leading to the garden. You nod emphatically. Peter takes your hand and leads the way, cutting a path through the crowd.

“Over there.” You don’t have to yell anymore. You’ve successfully made it outside, though the garden is definitely still full of people. You don’t even recognize some of them. Neither of you let go of each other’s hands as you lead Peter a little further into the garden.

“You okay?” Peter asks when you finally stop walking.

“Hm?” You smile at him as you gather yourself. “Yeah, it’s just…”

“I-!” You both say at the same time. You laugh it off.

“You go first, this time.” Peter says.

“Thanks. Okay. Good.” You breathe deep. “I like you. A lot.” Peter doesn’t say anything. He just looks a bit stunned, and you feel like you have to fill the pause somehow. “And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way! I just wanted you to know. Because we’re friends, and I can’t stand not telling you.” Peter says your name softly. You finally stop babbling.

“I like you a lot, too. I have had a the most embarrassing crush on you for almost a year now,” Peter laughs in disbelief and relief, “Actually, no, it probably started when you went off on Flash for a full ten minutes when he was being an asshole that one PE class.”

“That was junior year!” You’re laughing, but you also can’t believe a word he’s saying. “Really?”

“I mean…remember prom night…?” Peter gulps nervously, and the air is serious again. “I really really like you.”

You step closer with renewed confidence. “I don’t know… _when_ I started liking you, but I knew it for sure that first time I saw your room. Everything there was so _you_. Kind of a mess, pretty nerdy,” you laugh when Peter smiles in confusion, “but sweet, and clever, and funny.”

“You like me for my room?” Peter’s raises an eyebrow. You blush and cover your face in embarrassment. “I’m kidding! Come on.” He gently takes your hands from your face and moves closer.

“I like how you’re the same sweet, clever, funny, kind person no matter where you are.” You confess. “You’re not pretending to be those things. You truly, genuinely, are.”

Peter looks admiringly at you. He’s so close, your foreheads almost touch. He’s holding your hands and pulls them so that your arms are around his shoulders, before he kisses you deeply. You kiss him back just as earnestly, and he holds you closer with his arms around your waist.

“Wait wait,” he pulls back breathlessly, “just to be clear: will you go out with me some time? Like on a date?”

“Yes!” You say impatiently, and your laugh is smothered in a kiss.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I've been waiting to reveal Wendy's identity for so long! :D Anyway, it took me forever to write and then finish this chapter, because I had no idea how to do it smoothly/neatly/etc? I hope this turned out okay :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the kudos, comments, and bookmarking! Please leave a comment. Your opinions would help a lot, also I crave validation lmao


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